


the minor inconvenience of being resurrected

by kiwiaste



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gratuitous Amount Of Hand Holding, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death, low-key morbid sense of humour, this is less sad than the tags/description might imply i swear, vague supernatural logic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 07:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiaste/pseuds/kiwiaste
Summary: Somewhere deep down Issei is relieved that his family wasn't the one to help with the body. As desensitised as he's become to handling people post-mortem, he's not sure if he could deal with seeing his best friend lying unmoving on the cold workshop bench.He couldn't handle looking at him during the wake, that's for sure, even after all the beauty work was done by someone else.In which Issei doesn't mourn, and then he does, and then he doesn't need to.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro & Matsukawa Issei, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	the minor inconvenience of being resurrected

**Author's Note:**

> as tags and title suggest: the major character death is there, but it's only temporary
> 
> still, death/grief/funerals and handling of dead bodies (while not graphic or terribly explicit) are somewhat a main theme of this fic, so please take this into consideration
> 
>   
> (please excuse any inaccuracies re: actual morticians practices, i just wanted to write some feels okay bye)

Hanamaki is dead.

  
  


It makes local news, because drunk hit-and-runs are incredibly rare in rural Miyagi, even more so when there's an actual casualty. It might have made national news too, because it's rare in Japan in general. An unfortunate case of a young, promising university student dying horribly always makes for good news. It probably prompts a discussion on the ill effects of drunk driving. Issei wouldn't know, because he hasn't paid any attention to pretty much anything. If there's a well intended, nation-wide campaign against driving under the influence started by this accident, then good for everyone.

Not for Hanamaki though. He's already dead.

It's really weird, because no matter how many times Issei reminds himself that his friend is no longer here, it just doesn't register. They just saw each other. Made plans for next week. Then he got the news about his accident, barely had any time to process it, went to the wake along with his family, paid his respects mechanically, but didn't look inside the coffin. He couldn't bring himself to. Maybe that's why the finality of the situation isn't clicking for him.

A different funeral home organised the wake. He's not sure if Hanamaki's family didn't ask his family out of consideration for their son's closeness or some other reason. He didn't ask, they didn't say. It wasn't a topic to be discussed so fresh. It feels like everything surrounding Hanamaki's death is too fresh to discuss.

Somewhere deep down Issei is relieved that his family wasn't the one to help with the body. As desensitised as he's become to handling people post-mortem, he's not sure if he could deal with seeing his best friend lying unmoving on the cold workshop bench.

He couldn't handle looking at him during the wake, that's for sure, even after all the beauty work was done by someone else.

The accident happened on what was otherwise a completely normal Wednesday evening. Hanamaki was killed on the spot, not so far away from his own home, after being hit by a speeding car and flying a few metres. The impact during his fall snapped his neck immediately. It was in a residential area where no one ever expects such things to happen, despite the streets being on the narrow side and having no proper sidewalks. The culprit was caught a few blocks over, by way of accident again, after they smashed the car into a post office wall.

There was a joke brewing in the irony of it all, about them delivering themselves to justice so swiftly, but Issei couldn't find humour in it yet.

The paramedics who arrived on the scene had an easy enough job - they declared Hanamaki dead, still weirdly in one piece aside from the snapped neck and despite being flung like a ragdoll, then just handed him off to the morgue. It made the local news Thursday morning. Issei is almost impressed at how fast everything was processed, because the wake was scheduled for the next day, Friday, _today,_ and he knows it's not easy to get a spot in their local temple on such short notice, especially right before the weekend. The cremation is scheduled for tomorrow, but only the closest family will attend.

The wake was a way bigger affair, as Hanamaki was widely liked and not only Issei and his family wanted to say goodbye. It was well organised yet really somber. Funerals caused by accidents and those for young people usually are. 

They had to take off a few hours from dealing with the dead to attend the wake, Issei's father went back to work right after - death waits for no one, especially not morticians. Issei got excused from work though. His father didn't say anything, just dropped him off at home along with his siblings and gave him a pointed look. While they have two more employees, he knew that his father might need to stay late due to losing those few hours during the day and being short an extra set of hands, what with Issei staying behind. Still, he couldn't really bring himself to feel bad. He just nodded and accepted he wouldn't be much help anyway in his current state of mind. He hadn’t been of any help since he heard about the accident to be honest.

It feels worse now though, like actually attending the wake had almost snapped something fragile within him, where before he was still going on through the motions out of pure habit, unaware.

Issei knew death. He was familiar with it more so than your average person, just by being born into a family that has made it their work. He knew it was sometimes unreasonable, painful more times than relieving. He still had respect for it though, not only learned but practiced. Somehow, he inherently could find peace in the fairness of it all. Nothing could bargain with death, and all humans were equal to it. Most of the time he could even appreciate it in a way.

Not now though.

Now, it all feels terribly unfair.

There's a quiet knock on his door and his sister pokes her head in seconds later, not waiting for permission. She's already in her pyjamas and it makes Issei realise he's still sitting around in his mourning suit despite having come back back from the wake hours ago. He's not entirely sure how he’d made it into his room in the first place.

"How are you holding up?" she looks at Issei like she's waiting for him to crack, but honestly, he feels so detached from everything right now he probably can’t manage even that.

"Somehow," he says after a moment of thinking. "It's weird."

She nods like she _somehow_ understands what he means. "I'm going to sleep. Toshi is already knocked out. There's still some dinner leftovers from today for you and dad, if you're hungry. I left him a note but if you see him when he comes back, tell him they're in the fridge."

Issei tries to give her a smile but he thinks it falls flat. "Sure thing. Goodnight."

"Night night," she says and closes the door after her quietly.

  
  
Issei sighs and shifts where he's seated on the floor, his back pressed against the bed. There's a twinge in a few places, probably from sitting still for so long. He’d suddenly realised that his butt is sore and his neck is starting to cramp up. It brings some clarity to the reality of his own body. He needs to move. It takes him a long moment before he can bring himself to motion and actually stand up.

As he considers changing, or taking a shower, or doing anything to finally get out of the damn suit, he's hit with a wave of restlessness. The room starts feeling oppressive out of nowhere, like he's trapped in it. He needs to get out, go anywhere.

He ends up downstairs, looks into the kitchen, but just thinking about food makes him nauseous. Issei breathes deeply, once, twice and heads for the front door. Puts on the first pair of shoes he can grab and tumbles outside. Mechanically closes the door. Takes another breath.

The thing that was propelling him forward so far fizzles out. He leans against the door, mostly because he's not sure if his legs will continue to keep him upright.

Issei remembers the breathless, white-hot dizziness that came with pushing his body to the limits from years of playing volleyball with reckless abandon. It has nothing on the way his brain seems to stop and stutter right now, on the way his lungs feel too small and shriveled to take in any decent amount of air. He closes his eyes and focuses on the chill of the night, on the distant murmur of late hour traffic. Issei breathes in what little air he can and tries to ground himself, because he feels that otherwise he might either somehow float away or melt on the spot, or both at once if possible. He's not sure. He doesn't fully understand what's wrong. Everything feels just off and awful.

After what seems like an eternity, Issei manages to take a breath deep enough that he doesn't need to immediately chase it with another. Each inhale still feels like a monumental effort, but with each exhale the static in his brain starts to clear out a bit. He relaxes his arms, that he’d unconsciously wrapped around himself. It feels like his body-brain connection is coming back online. He breathes in again.

  
  


"Mattsun"

Issei's chokes on the exhale as his whole body jerks violently, eyes snapping open, head whipping up because there's _no way_ he's hearing what he thinks he's hearing - but there he is _, there he is_.

Just outside of the small gate of his home, towering over the fence is Hanamaki, his ridiculous hair and slightly distressed expression unmistakable even in the dim light of streetlights, looking right at Issei.

And in that moment Issei _knows_ why he couldn't look into the coffin during the wake, why he was quietly relieved that his family's business wasn't the one taking care of Hanamaki's body.

Because one glance at his best friend's face is enough to finally buckle his knees, vision blurring. It doesn't matter _why_ Hanamaki is here, or if he is at all. It doesn't matter, because Issei is crumpling to the ground, an ugly sort of sob tearing out from what feels like the very depth of his soul. He loses any shreds of the composure he’d just barely gathered.

Yet, he cannot look away, no matter what, so despite the sudden wetness in his eyes he gets a perfect view of Hanamaki's face falling and becoming even more distressed. Almost immediately Hanamaki's body seems to catch up with his face, hands flailing - he's reaching out and opening the gate, crossing the small front yard in two quick strides and dropping to his knees in front of Issei.

"Mattsun, please," he says, hands raised but hovering uncertainly between them, seemingly afraid to touch, like he's the one being _haunted_ by his recently deceased friend, not Issei. "It's only me."

Issei chokes on nothing but pure indignation amidst another sob, because isn't that exactly the problem here? He's faced with his grief in the worst way possible. It must be his brain taunting him for refusing to acknowledge the sadness in a normal way and just conjuring _this_ to jumpstart him into dealing with his emotions. There's no other explanation and yet he still tells the Hanamaki-vision in front of him "You're dead," like it's going to solve anything.

Hanamaki snorts in forced amusement. "I think I am? Was? Buddy, this is even more confusing to me than to you, trust me," as his face twists into a frown.

" _What,_ " Issei is vaguely aware he's not making much sense, but to be fair, nothing else makes sense right now so he feels justified. The _thing_ sounds exactly like Hanamaki, if not a bit more hoarse. It moves exactly like Hanamaki, if not a bit more unsure and jerky. It's uncanny, and that tugs at Issei's heart even more, in ways he could never prepare himself for.

"I mean, I just woke up in what seemed to be a coffin, during my _own_ _wake_ judging by the photos around, my mother sobbing in the other room, so unless you assholes are playing a very elaborate prank on me I think I indeed might have been dead."

Issei gapes at him and rasps "Did you walk out like that? Just like that?" He thinks shock is replacing every other emotion in his body, because not only has he suddenly stopped crying, but also apparently his mind is going full tilt straight into hysteria. "Out of your own wake?"

"What else was I supposed to do?" Hanamaki almost whines, finally lowering his hands to nervously clasp them together and start wringing his fingers.

"I don't know? Why are you even here? _What_?" if Issei is being slightly rude, he still feels justified, because, _what_.

"Mattsun, _please,_ " Hanamaki repeats quietly. "I don't know what to do."

Issei realises with a jolt that he has no idea who is more stressed out of the two of them. It drives the point home more than anything else, because Hanamaki was always a poster child for unending amounts of chill, so if he's that stressed - this whole situation might be actually real. Or Issei's imagination is just that good. He doesn't know.

One thing he _does_ know is that he has always been good with rolling with the punches, while simultaneously avoiding the causes and possible repercussions. So fuck it. What does anything even matter at this point.

"Okay," he takes a very deep breath. "Okay, let's just. I don't know, let's go inside for now?”

Hanamaki exhales visibly, shoulders slouching. "Okay," he starts to rise from his crouch. "Thanks man" he says as he extends a hand to help Issei up, too.

And, conditioned through long years of friendship with lots of casual physical contact and many, many falls and helping each other up during club practice, Issei reaches out without thinking. The moment their hands actually connect he's startled into realisation that they're _touching_ , and Hanamaki's hand feels _very_ real and solid in his own and oh-so-familiar. He gets pulled up to his feet in a daze, eyes locking on Hanamaki's face again, feeling like he's actually _seeing_ him for the first time since he’d appeared.

There's words at the tip of Issei's tongue, still a lot of _you're here_ fighting with _you're dead_ mingled with something else that's way softer, but he swallows them all. He forgoes saying anything, just in case. Nods more to himself than anyone else. Braces to just deal with the situation and reaches out to open the door to get into the house. Hanamaki is right behind him. In some bizarre version of relief he looks at them taking off their shoes and notes that Hanamaki still does have feet. Not a ghost then. Maybe a ghoul. A zombie. A figment of his imagination. Who the fuck knows.

They go upstairs in silence, matching the quiet that folded over the house. Issei is glad his siblings are already asleep and there's no one else there at the moment, because how the fuck would he even explain this. Either his dead friend is here, instead of being a good dead person and still laying in his coffin, or he's bumbling around talking to himself like a madman if he isn't.

They get inside and while Issei closes the door as quietly as possible, Hanamaki stands in the middle of his room, looking weirdly out of place in his black suit. He might feel as awkward as he looks because after a few seconds of fidgeting he looks at Issei.

"Can I borrow some clothes? I feel kinda stiff in this thing."

Before he can stop himself, Issei's already saying, "It might not be just the suit, Makki." Which, in a different context, would be morbidly inappropriate, but now it's just… Morbid.

Hanamaki takes that in stride, though, "You would know, wouldn't you."

"Don't tell me you came here only because of my expertise," Issei still plays along despite his continuing unease, as he starts looking around in his dressers for something Hanamaki could wear, because why not, might as well. It doesn't make any _less_ sense than anything else at the moment.

"Sure, if anything at least you know how to handle a dead body," Hanamaki says, like they aren't discussing _him_ being that body. "Climbing out of that coffin was really easy by the way, thought you guys should plan for that."

"You know, this is exactly why they used to put boulders on top of the caskets right after the wake," Issei says looking back, watching as Hanamaki struggles to get out of his suit. "Maybe we should go back to that tradition." He winces when his words actually register in his brain.

"Thanks Mattsun, it's great to see you too," Hanamaki scoffs distractedly as he fights his jacket buttons.

And it hits Issei suddenly. Undead or not, temporary apparition of his grieving mind or whatever, Hanamaki _is here_. And it _is_ great to see him, even if they have no idea what's really happening. It hits him _really_ hard exactly how great it is and that no amount of friendly jabs and striving for normalcy will convey that. He reaches out and grabs Hanamaki's hand, still fiddling with the buttons. "I _am_ glad to see you."

"What?" Hanamaki jerks his head up, visibly startled.

"I am glad to see you," Issei repeats, looking him dead in the eye, refusing to back down and dismiss it with a joke. Not now, not when he doesn't know how long this is going to last, whatever it is.

Hanamaki stays quiet for a minute, then shifts uncomfortably. "I don't remember anything after thinking that ‘shit, I'm gonna get hit by that car’," he swallows, "but you were the first person I wanted to see after I woke up. I guess that's why I'm here."

Issei lets out a staggered breath. He squeezes Hanamaki's wrist. "Thank you."

"Yeah, don't mention it. Glad to be able to haunt you or something," he clears his throat and looks down at their hands. "Do you know why I can’t open my goddamn jacket?"

The simplicity of the question knocks Issei out of the seriousness of the moment and he takes his hand away to look at the lapel. "It might be stitched shut, we sometimes do that so it lays better in the coffin".

"Oh," Hanamaki seems to think about something for a second then chuckles. "See, I do need your expertise."

It gets Issei involuntarily smiling a bit as he goes to look for scissors. He hands them to Hanamaki so that he can free himself from the jacket prison and resumes looking for clothes he can change into.

There's a pair of sweatpants that he knows Hanamaki favoured when they still had sleepovers in high school and a shirt he once left behind. Issei holds it in his hand feeling simultaneously like it was just yesterday and ages ago. They barely graduated two years ago, why does he feel so old right now? The fabric bunches up in his fist. He never gave it back during those years. He thinks of opening his drawer and feeling _something_ as he saw it there every day.

There's a noise of the scissors being put down. It startles Issei out of his stupor and he turns to hand the clothes over. "Do you want to shower? I think there might be a lot of makeup on you."

Hanamaki pauses in taking off the jacket, now fully unstitched and unbuttoned, and looks mildly offended. "Is that why my face feels so gross? Oh my god, did they put eyeliner on me, do I look like my sister now? Do I look like _Oikawa_?"

"They did a good job, don't worry, you still look fresh and barefaced" Issei throws back. "Might want to check if there's any cotton up your butt, though"

Hanamaki drops the jacket, fully scandalised now, "If there’s what _where_?"

  
  
While Hanamaki showers, Issei decides he should change too. He's _still_ in his suit and the incense smell clinging to it becomes more and more oppressive with each passing second. He does so on autopilot, picking the first shirt of the pile and whatever sweats he had lying around. His mind didn't slow down but it _has_ reached some kind of cruise altitude where it just goes on its own, trajectory still unknown. He tries to go through the motions without focusing on anything specific.

He drops down on his bed, suddenly very tired. Glancing at the clock standing on the nightstand, Issei realises it's way after midnight already. He closes his eyes against another wave of exhaustion. There's a faint sound of the shower running coming from the hallway that grounds him but it doesn't feel fully real.

Not long after it stops, Hanamaki shuffles back into the room and closes the door behind him. "I can never look at a cotton pad the same way ever again," he says miserably.

"Listen, if a cotton butt plug is the worst thing about being dead, then I'm actually very happy for you." Issei cracks an eye open to look as Hanamaki drops down next to him. It's cramped on his single bed but Issei is immensely grateful for all the small points of contact.

Hanamaki actually looks pensive for a moment. "I think so. Man, I don't actually _feel_ dead. What's up with that."

"Don't ask me. Do you have any cravings for human flesh? Want to rattle some chains and make stupid sounds to scare innocent children?"

"The only thing I crave right now is violence towards the assholes who run me over in the first place. What exactly happened? It must have been bad if they wiped me out like that."

Issei tries to choose his words carefully. "Drunk driver hit you and you broke your neck during the fall. He hit a wall soon after and has died himself."

"Oh," Hanamaki murmurs. "I guess violence isn't an option then. Unless you think he is also… You know. Not dead?"

"I don't know, Makki," words tumble out of Issei's month, like something is finally starting to spill over. "And honestly, I'm not sure I actually care. Maybe I should, just so the violence could become an option," he looks over at his friend, "so there's actual justice for what he's done. But I'm just glad _you're_ here."

Hanamaki blinks and visibly mulls over something. Takes a breath and very seriously starts, "I don't know. Doesn't that feel kind of unfair though?"

"What does?"

"You know. Only me being. Not-dead."

Issei doesn't think his blood has ever boiled faster. "Listen. Makki, listen," he props himself on his elbow so he can look at Hanamaki properly. "It was his fault in the first place. If, by any chance, you're truly not-dead and he's just plain dead - it's not on you. Nothing what happened is on you," he grits out.

Hanamaki seems to be partially cowed, at least for now. "I guess," he admits, "but being dead sucks no matter if you're at fault or not."

The fight bleeds out of Issei, like a deflating balloon. He's not sure why he got so defensive in the first place but he's sure that whatever is happening he doesn't want Hanamaki to regret it. He doesn't know how long _this_ will last. He doesn't know if Hanamaki is here to stay.

A chill runs down his spine at the thought of Hanamaki being gone again. He reaches out to grab the front of his shirt, desperate for any physical contact "You being dead and gone sucked. I don't care why and how but - I'm just glad you're here now."

Something soft passes over Hanamaki's face. "Yeah," he puts his hand over Issei's, where it bunches up the fabric and pats it a few times. "I'm glad to be here too." He sighs and looks at the ceiling, "Do you think it's permanent? That I'm just - back?"

Issei swallows around something very dry lodged in his throat. Figures, they both are worried about how long they have. "I have no idea. But I hope so."

Hanamaki's eyes snap back to Issei's face, looking panicked, "What if, there's like. My body. Still in the coffin?"

"Didn't you say you climbed out?"

"Yeah, but. What if I only thought I did. What if _something_ is still there?" Hanamaki is starting to get really worked up and he sits up, "What if _I'm_ not actually here."

Issei sits up immediately too, his hands snapping up to squish Hanamaki's cheeks and make him look up straight at him. "Hey," he tries to sound less shaken up than he feels, "It's okay. I think it's you. I think you're here and - we can check back if there's anything else in the coffin. We got this. Whatever this is, it's fine," he makes sure to exude as much calm as possible. "We got this," he repeats, as much for Hanamaki's benefit as his own.

"Yeah," Hanamaki breathes out, "Okay."

The air feels less charged now, like they just barely avoided a hard crash over a very steep cliff. They're still in the danger zone though.

Issei squeezes at Hanamaki's face where it's still cradled between his palms. "You feel very real. Very _you_ , from what I can tell." His thumbs move over to smooth the skin under Hanamaki's eyes. They look a bit bruised, now that the makeup is gone, but more in a ‘pulled an all-nighter gaming’ way than anything else. "Does anything feel off? Hurts anywhere?"

Hanamaki hesitates for a moment, probably to take stock of himself. "Now that I'm all showered and clean I feel almost okay? I think there's a bump on my neck," one of his hands goes to prod at it and winces. "Saw some bruises and stuff but nothing like, rotting zombie flesh or anything, and it doesn't really hurt. That's about it?"

"Let me see that," Issei finally takes his hands off Hanamaki's face to move over behind him and look at his neck properly. There's a small lump, right under the hairline, with a an even smaller cut and a single stitch. Issei can tell that the flesh was pulled together long after it stopped bleeding but it also doesn't look like dead tissue. No signs of infection either. Might leave a visible scar but should heal okay. There's a bit of bruising and when he nudges it with a finger Hanamaki hisses quietly. "You got more bruises?"

"Yeah, mostly on my side and shoulder but I couldn't get a proper look," he twists around to glance at Issei. "There's no autopsy cuts though?"

Issei looks at him with amusement. "There's no reason to bother with one if it's such a clear cut case."

"Oh, bummer. It would be a wicked scar."

"I don't think a broken sternum and missing organs that go along with it would be as wicked," Issei feels his mouth pull at the sides in a smile.

"You're a true spoilsport you know," Hanamaki huffs in mock affront.

"Sorry to disappoint," Issei says as he takes one last look at the small scar. "Take off your shirt, I want to see the other bruises."

"What, you think it's important?" Hanamaki sounds a bit muffled and he tugs at the collar of the shirt to pull it off.

"Might be, might not," Issei says distractedly looking over the mottled skin. It all looks like antemortem bruising and not lividity, slightly raised and irritated but definitely on the way to healing. "I think it's all from where the car hit you and you skidded over the road" he gently touches over a particularly rough area of scrapes. Hanamaki feels very warm under his fingers. "They look a few days old, but in a way that shows they're actually healing."

"So you're saying I'm not a body double?" Hanamaki shifts to glance at Issei over his shoulder.

"If you are, then you're a _very_ convincing one." The wave of calm that overtakes Issei makes him close his eyes. It _is_ Hanamaki. He's here. Issei leans in and rests his forehead between Hanamaki's shoulder blades. "You're here," he says quietly.

"I hope so," Hanamaki responds equally quietly. They spend a few minutes just sitting like this. Then Hanamaki shifts, obviously starting to get restless. "What do we do now though?"

Issei raises his head, trying to think it through. There's some sort of vague plan forming in his brain. "We can go to the temple in the morning. I know the head monk there, he should let me in if I say I didn't pay my respects properly."

"Using your connections to con your way in, I see."

"More like, using my connections to see if we're not going crazy, but yeah," Issei nods. "Did you close the lid after you got out?"

"Yeah? I kind of rushed out, but I think I did?"

"Good, then nobody should have noticed anything. They don't touch the casket after the wake until the cremation."

Hanamaki shudders. "Holy shit. Cremation," he looks at Issei with wide eyes. "That could have been me. That _could_ be me. What if we get there and I just, don't know, shut down? Bluescreen? Carriage into pumpkin and all that? Poof? What if there's _something_ in that coffin after all?" he asks with a panic rising in his voice as the situation seems to hit him full force.

"Makki, hey," Issei grabs at his shoulders to shake his quickly spiralling friend a bit. "Stop that. We're gonna deal with it when we get there. It's fine. I am here with you," he tries for reassuring but falls somewhere between desperate and frantic. "If there's a body to hide, I'm your man to do it. Until then we just… I just. I'm happy to have you here, even if it's for one more night," he blinks away the urge to cry. He won't. Not now when Hanamaki is actually still with him. He didn't cry when he was gone. What the fuck.

Hanamaki who obviously noticed they both freaking out now, reins himself in somewhat. "Okay," he takes a deep breath, "Okay, so we just. What, hang back here until morning?"

"I suppose. It wouldn't be smart to go out unless necessary, somebody could see and recognise you," until they know what's going on it's better not to risk it. Not like it will be any better once they _do_ know.

"Yeah, I don't think anyone else would be as chill about it as you."

Issei feels anything but chill at the moment. He still tries to act like it, fake it till you make it and all that, he supposes. "I might just be used to dead people."

Hanamaki slaps his arm half-heartedly. "They don't usually just decide to up and leave the premises, huh?"

"Definitely not. You sure like to be special."

"What can I say, just look at me." He drags his hand through his hair and tries to pose seductively like Oikawa does whenever somebody takes his photo. He's still shirtless and is wearing worn-out sweatpants while sitting on Issei's cat-patterned bedsheets.

Issei shouldn't find that charming, because Hanamaki is being ridiculous, the whole situation is ridiculous. But he does, his insides squeezing painfully. "Put the shirt back on, mister special, or you will catch a cold on top of everything."

"You're the one who wanted to see me naked," Hanamaki says pouting while dutifully pulling the shirt on again.

"Sure did," Issei drops down on the bed again, tiredness taking over. "In professional capacity, exam is over."

"I have half a mind to complain about the quality of services you provide, but I'm not paying, so you get off scot free for once," Hanamaki scoffs then drops _on top_ of Issei. He pillows his head on his folded arms across Issei's chest. "Do you offer any entertainment in this household or do we just… nap till the morning?"

Issei's thinks it over. He's way too wired to sleep and he doesn't want to lose any minute of this, not really. Hanamaki feels warm and heavy and it grounds him like nothing else. "What do you want to do? Any bucket list stuff to knock off, just in case?"

It's dark so it's not easy to see but Hanamaki cheeks might be starting to colour. "Not really, to be honest. I think if we try to do anything special it will only jinx it? I'm fine just hanging out with you like this," he buries his face in his arms, so Issei can only see the top of his head now.

"Sure, can do that," Issei says with a chuckle as his hands wind around Hanamaki's waist in a loose hug. "Being low-maintenance for a change?"

"Shut up," his voice is muffled. "If I'm still here tomorrow you're taking me out for breakfast at that nice bakery."

Issei blinks and tries to ignore the way his throat constricts at that. _If_ Hanamaki is still here tomorrow. He wants nothing more. "Okay," he says hugging Hanamaki closer. "Can do that too. We can go check out that new arcade afterwards, tokens on me."

"Deal. Dying might be worth it after all, if you're going to be that nice to me," Hanamaki says it offhand, like it's nothing.

Issei freezes. His mind blanks, regret filling in the gaps, overflowing everything else. "I wish I was nicer before. I will be nicer, if you let me."

Hanamaki raises his head to actually look Issei in the eye. "Mattsun. _Issei_. That's your takeaway? I was joking," he sighs. "Don't be like that, I like you even when you're not nice. Hell knows I wasn't really nice too sometimes," the grin he offers is shit-eating but tinged with something rueful.

There's a tense moment but Issei starts to relax again. "Say what you want, but I definitely do like you better when you're nice."

"Rude" but the complaint must be insincere, because Hanamaki lays his head back down, snuggling into Issei even more. "Very rude."

They lapse into silence afterwards. At some point they can hear Issei's father coming back and going straight to his room. It's very quiet. Issei's mind is still going miles a minute, but this time there's direction to it. In a few hours the sun will rise and he will see if all this is truly happening or if it was really an overproduced dream. It doesn't feel like it is though, and he clings to that thought as much as he clings to Hanamaki lying in his embrace.

If there's a tomorrow for him, for _them_ , then he's going to go into it with his heart on his sleeve. He doesn't know what he was waiting for before, because he always _knew_ that Hanamaki had a place in his life. They fit together so well they never discussed anything but maybe they need to. This might have been just a very awful reminder that they will run out of time one day. If they hadn’t already.

Issei takes a deep breath and Hanamaki shifts on top of him, mumbling something incomprehensible, only half-awake. Affection swells in Issei, slowly replacing all the dread and regret. It's starting to be okay, he will cherish this, he will cherish Hanamaki, for as long as he's allowed to. That's the best he can do.

When the alarm clock hits four thirty in the morning, Issei is still awake. He nudges Hanamaki, who dozed off at some point. The monks at temple start their day at five, they need to be there right when they open.

They dress up, Hanamaki very reluctantly in his suit again - but if anything happens they need to be prepared. No one will notice if Hanamaki's makeup is gone but everyone will notice that a dead man changed clothes.

The morning starts to shift from foggy grey to letting in through some colours. The air is crisp and chilly and the feel of it reminds Issei that he spent so many years willingly dragging himself out of the house at similar hours for practice. It feels like a different lifetime. They don't talk much on the way to the temple and Issei wonders if Hanamaki has similar thoughts. They shared most of their life experiences but he still knows so little about his friend. He wants to know more.

While Hanamaki hangs back out of sight, the head monk welcomes Issei at the temple, like he was expecting him. Maybe he knows what's going on somehow, maybe he just recognised the grief Issei held during the wake. It doesn't really matter. He's allowed into the room with Hanamaki's casket and given privacy. Issei takes a moment to compose himself, then quietly goes back out to fetch Hanamaki. They need to do this together.

Hanamaki looks very pale as they step closer to the casket podium. Issei reaches out to grab his hand, then lays the other at the lid. He wishes he had something good to say but Hanamaki seems to find some sort of reassurance in their joined hands and he reaches out too. They push up the lid open together.

The casket is empty. There's a few packets of dry ice on the bottom but other than that - nothing. Issei holds in his breath and looks over at Hanamaki staring wide-eyed at the open coffin. He's still there, solid warmth by his side, their hands getting clammy where they're clasped together. The moment seems frozen in time until Hanamaki turns his head to look at Issei and a disbelieving, shaky sort of smile slowly starts to bloom on his face. Issei finally exhales.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Hanamaki is not dead.

His resurrection doesn't make local or national news. Even though it's way rarer than a drunk hit-and-run in a rural Miyagi.

It barely makes any news. His family and people who attended the wake were more than glad to accept that it was a severe case of medical malpractice and plain human incompetence and sweep the case under a rug. Short coma with very weak vital signs, that's what they officially say. It's way easier to accept that than think about other possibilities. Most of them are just glad he's back. Very few give him a wide breadth when they pass him on the street. It's fine, it's not exactly normal to rise from the dead. The general populace who have seen the original news about the accident doesn't even know his face, because it was pixelated on the photos from the scene for some semblance of privacy. It all somewhat worked out.

As far as Issei is concerned - he's just glad Hanamaki is back. He was never that interested in thinking about there being any bigger reason or purpose for human life and death or any mystical forces behind it. Maybe it comes with his professional territory and the topics he was familiar with since childhood, but he just prefers to deal with it as a simple fact of existence. Death happens to everyone at some point. He's here to help the people left behind say their goodbyes, he doesn't need to think about it any harder than that.

He squeezes Hanamaki's hand resting comfortably in his hold, as they're waking around window shopping on their day off, months later.

  
  
  


Issei's just happy he didn't have to say goodbye yet.

They're both alive.

**Author's Note:**

> last year i saw that mattsun was a "funeral home employee" in timeskip canon and went completely feral, wrote 4K words of this thing in my phone notes in one go, then proceeded to act like it didn't happen and it was all a fever dream
> 
> i've just found it again, decided yolo, added a few more bits, had [hinotori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinotori) look it over to make sure it isn't a complete disaster (thank you, you're the best! ;;;;; ), and here you go, my first finished fic ever, i have no idea what i'm doing honestly
> 
>   
> any rational person: but why did makki rise from the dead? how?  
> me, looking them straight in the eye, completely serious: it's the power of love baby


End file.
